Dirty: The Erotic Adventures of the Harlequin
by LilLolaBlue
Summary: Who has the biggest collection of, er, adult superhero literature in NYC? The Harlequin, that’s who! But how does truth compare with fiction? She knows. Let’s find out. Starring Wolverine, Iron Man, the Comedian & Special Mystery Avenger! Porn with plot!
1. Wild Wild Wolverine!

**DIRTY: THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF THE HARLEQUIN**

**Chapter 1: Wild Wild Wolverine!!!!**

**Excerpt From "Wild Wild Wolverine!!!! , by Oliver Clozzoff, SuperXXX Books. Fully illustrated.**

_ …Alison followed the short and stocky muscular, hairy man with his old cowboy hat over his bushy black hair and wolfish blue eyes out of the bar and into the snowstorm._

_ "Truck's over here." He told her._

_ They both got into the cab of the old pickup, and he turned on the ignition so he could put on the heater and the radio._

_ She wasn't sure what to say to him, but he was in no mood to talk, he just backed out of the parking lot and headed out onto the road._

_ "Where are we going?" she asked._

_ "Motel up on the interstate. You pay by the hour." He said._

_ It was a sleazy sort of dive, sleazy and impersonal, but that's what Alison was looking for._

_ That was why she left the bar with the man she did._

_ He closed the door behind them and locked it, kicked off his boots, tossed his ancient, battered bomber jacket onto a chair and began to undress._

_ Sleazy, and impersonal, the man didn't hardly speak to her, and when he was naked, he looked in her direction, smiled, and beckoned to her, crooking his finger._

_ When she was close enough to him, he wound his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer, made his hand into a fist, and with a sound of metal against metal, three long, silvery, deadly claws sprang out of his huge, meaty fist._

_ They were less than an inch away from her face._

_ "Oh my God! You're…the Wolverine!"_

_ "That's right, baby. And you're wearing too many clothes."_

_ A scream of fear turned into a moan of desire as the Wolverine sliced off her clothes, deftly, leaving not a single mark on her creamy white skin._

_ He tossed her onto the bed and sheathed three of his weapons, as, before her eyes, another weapon unsheathed itself, long, thick and heavy, with a massive purple head._

_ Alison lay naked before him, feeling fear and desire._

_ She tried to get under the covers, but he wouldn't let her; he was on top of her before she could move another muscle._

_ She was terrified, but excited; she had never been with a man so much like an animal as him; she only hoped he wouldn't hurt her._

_ "What do you think I'm going to do, baby? Bite you? Eat you all up?"_

_ "Don't bite me. Please, don't!' Alison cried._

_ Wolverine laughed and his laugh turned into a growl of desire, cupping her breasts in his hands._

_ His hands which contained six deadly weapons, something Alison tried to remember but couldn't, as he ran his rough hands all over her body, pushing her thighs open._

_ Somehow he knew she would be wet, and ready._

_ Her fear that he would bite her faded in the pleasure of the rough scrape of his stubble, hungry kisses on her neck and her breasts as he rubbed her hot, swollen clit with his calloused fingers, making her gasp and pant._

_ "That's a real good girl. Come on. Come for me." He commanded her._

_ Alison had never had an orgasm with a man in her life, but she had to listen to him, she just had to._

_ While she was still riding the wave of the unaccustomed pleasure, the Wolverine pushed her legs open further and mounted her._

_ Alison was a changed woman, crazed with lust, she wrapped her legs around him, and cried out in a combination of pleasure and pain as he thrust his thick, hard, heavy cock into her._

_ "Don't stop!" she sobbed, clinging to him._

_ The dull ache gave way to a feeling of slick, ravenous lust; never had her tight little pussy been fucked so hard by a man with such an immense cock._

_ Alison gave into it, wantonly._

_ "Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder! Harder, you son of a bitch!" she cried._

_ The Wolverine was happy to oblige her._

_ Alison thrashed around on the bed, screaming in ecstasy as she came, violently, over and over again._

_ With an animal snarl, Wolverine pulled his massive cock out of her, and she could feel his hot come spurting onto her belly._

_ Sighing, Alison reached for him, but he was out of bed already, putting on his shirt, heading for the bathroom._

_ When he came out, he was dressed._

_ "Where are you going? You can't just leave!"_

_ "Sure I can. I paid for the room the whole night, you can have it. Here's five bucks for the cab home in the morning."_

_ He sat in the chair to put on his bomber jacket and his boots, and then stood up, and put his hat back on._

_ "But my clothes! You ripped them up!"_

_ "Then call one of your girlfriends, and have her bring ya somethin'. Sorry darlin'. I got to go. I know you'd like me to stick around, but I ain't that kinda man. Here's another ten bucks. Have the bellhop go buy you a new dress."_

_ He opened the door to the room._

_ "Seeya 'round, baby." He said._

_ As Alison heard him start up the old pickup and drive away, she knew that Wolverine had made her a different woman, and awakened a lust in her that she realised she was going to be hard-pressed to slake with lesser men._

_ And after wild, wild Wolverine, they would all be lesser men._

**Napalm's Notes**: Corny as hell, and Logan's a little too mean, but I really dig the sleazy truck-drivin' cowpoke vibe, and the whole idea of getting screwed into the wall by the Ol' Canucklehead in a "motel up on the interstate" is shit-hot. Having done the dirty dirty deed with Logan in a lot of motels up on the interstate, I know what I'm talking about. Nice setup, fairly good smut, talks about him more than Miss Faceless Groupie Chick. One of my favourites, especially the way he cuts all her clothes off her and leaves fifteen bucks for a cab home and a new dress. Logan would have left her 20.

**Brooklyn, New York, Winter 197o-71**

**I: Logan**

Even in the nicest of neighbourhoods, there's always some dive of an eyesore, some wretched hive of scum and villainy, some back-alley, back-door, roadhouse pool hall juke joint bar with a parking lot loaded up with motorcycles and rusty pickups and muscle cars all full of drunk and lowlifes and bikers and loonies and misfits and outlaws and freaks and trouble where there's always a good rock band playing on Friday and Saturday nights and decent people are scared to go there.

About ten minutes drive from the X-Mansion and about five minutes off the New York Thruway and about a mile off the interstate, nestled among some back roads in the not-so-posh part of Westchester county was just such a place, called the Thruway Tavern, and the man known as Logan was a regular there to the point where even when he wasn't at his seat at the bar nobody sat in in, and when he wasn't at his table in the back corner, nobody sat there, either.

Now, since he had made her acquaintance in the summer of '70, Logan met with Napalm, his friend to whom he was bound by a blood oath, every Wednesday, sometimes at Trivelino Mac's in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, and sometimes at the Thruway Tavern.

Trivelino Mac's, in Bensonhurst, was more of your typical neighbourhood bar, but that didn't mean it was any less rough, just rough in a different way.

John "Mac" McClatchey's regular clientele was a mixture of Italian and Irish hardhats, tradesmen and other working guys, lower level wiseguys planning their next big score and the kind of women who hung around with both. Mac didn't put up with any bullshit in his place. If you wanted to fight, you had to do it outside, if you wanted to puke, you had better do it outside or in the john, if you didn't like smoke you could leave, and if you were a Republican and had anything good to say about Nixon, he'd throw you out.

And if you were crazy enough to want to rob the place, or break it up, that's what the shotgun behind the bar and the shotgun mounted under it were for.

Logan was at the bar, in the waning hours of a cold Tuesday, any cold winter Tuesday in the winter of 1970-71. He was nursing a pint of Guinness and watching the New York Rangers get their asses kicked, eating peanuts when, bundled up in a sheepskin and courduroy jacket and a thick blue watchcap and gloves, stomping the snow off of her insulated Frye engineer boots, Liv blew in the door.

Under it she wore an OD military sweater and a pair of low slung dirty Levis.

All her clothes had a few flecks of blood and motor oil on them.

"Hiya, Uncle Mac. Shitty night out there. How about a Guinness for me, and another one for Logan. Drink up, man, it's on me, tonight. Shit, it's snowin' like a motherfucker out there. If you wanna get back to the X-Mansion tonight, we better make it a short one."

They only stayed an hour or four, and only had 12 beers and a fifth between them, and it was just a little fight when the guy nobody knew, the one who looked like some rich fuck slumming it interrupted them while they were playing pool and asked Liv if she was some kind of bull dyke, and if she wasn't, why not ditch ugly and hairy and come with him.

They took him outside, after all, it was Liv's Uncle's place, and they took it easy on him and his friends. No claws, no weapons, no broken bones, just smacked them around a little, showed them what you could get for coming into a dive and fucking with the wrong motherfuckers.

On another night, with different adversaries, the lot of them might have ended up dead.

They finished their game, and then the two of them stomped outside into the howling snowstorm, cursing volubly.

"Shit! Where the fuck are the fucking snowplows? Bet they cleaned up goddamn Manhattan. If I try to make it back in this on the bike, it's gonna end up hurtin'. A lot." Logan complained.

"Don't worry about it, man. You can take my truck. It's parked out back."

Napalm was a genuine motorhead, she owned ten cars, five of which she had rebuilt from wrecks and the other five which she had rebuilt after wrecking them, and she was also in possession of a 1947 Ford panel pickup truck, which she used to convey her vehicles in their varying degrees of wreckage and repair from her private garage on the grounds of Wayne Manor to Hollis Mason's garage in Manhattan, for a consultation, or some more serious work.

She had studded tires with chains on them on the old Ford, and he figured he could have driven it through hell or high water, but it was one of the worst snowstorms of the past ten years, and after two hours of traffic and bullshit, Logan didn't even make it to the bridge.

He went back to the bar, parked the truck and went in, just as Mac was about to lock the door.

"You got a room for the night, Mac?"

"I'm all full up, Logan. Everybody beat ya to it. But I'm sure you can stay with Liv. She practically lives in that flop room, anyway. Oh well. At least when she's here I can keep an eye on her. An' if she's here I know she ain't lyin' in the street, somewhere. Last door on the left at the end of the hall."

Logan had never been to Liv's "flop" but he had spent half his life in rooms like it.

They were small, dark places, with rickety brass beds and lumpy, creaky mattresses.

You got a chair to sit in and a table to eat and work at, maybe two chairs, at that. There would be a closet, and a dresser, with a shitty little TV on it, a room a little bigger than a closet with a sink and a toilet in it. Room to drag in one of those little bar refridgerators, and sit a hot plate on top of it; plugged into the same outlet.

Possibly an end table with a lamp, definitely a dingy overhead light.

Neon and traffic outside the window with its faulty, yellowed Venetian blinds, hot in the summer, cold in the winter.

The lure of a place like that was that you could be alone, and it was simple and anonymous.

Sometimes, you needed to be simple and anonymous.

Logan went up to the room.

He could hear The Who playing from under the door, and Napalm didn't respond, either to him knocking or calling her name, so he popped a claw, picked the lock, and went in.

The room was just the way he'd expected it to be, right down to the stubborn cold, the arthritic, labouring old radiator, and the harshly twinkling neon lights coming in through the curtainless window with the half-broken Venetian blinds.

Except she had a record rack and a cheap stereo there, too, and the record stopped and went back to the beginning again as he shut and locked the door.

There was an end table, with a lamp on it, and also an open bottle of Southern Comfort. The trash can was crammed with bottles, beer cans, and take-out bags and boxes, and the several ashtrays around the room were full of butts.

The room smelled like booze and smoke, but her smell hung heaviest in the frigid air, that heavy, lingering Liv-smell that was sex and sweat and adrenaline; sweet and intoxicating.

The room was full of it; the air was full of it; there wasn't a woman in the world who smelled like savage, sexy, horny Napalm.

Like a whorehouse in summertime, like all of the 75 virgins in heathen heaven in holy heat, a thick, musky, heavy smell that made him think of all those warm summer days and the soft grass under his belly and the sweet smell of the flowers and the earth a pleasant undertone to hers, with his face buried right in the centre of her heavy heat, snuffling and grunting and licking up all the hellfire she had for him.

Napalm, herself was spread across the lumpy mattress of the unmade brass bed, in her strained to bursting OD tank top and the folded over, threadbare GI-issue OD boxers.

There was a stack of lurid paperbacks by her feet, and, lying open and facedown, a comic book with a well-built guy in tighty-whities wearing Iron Man's helmet walking over to a bed with a scantily dressed blond in her underwear.

"The Unflagging Iron Man!" the cover screamed.

It was hard to tell if she was asleep, or if she had knocked herself out with too much whiskey and wanking, lying there with a half-smile on her face and her hand down the front of her boxers, a favourite book of hers, "The Comedian's Caper" lying open across her chest.

Logan breathed in the heady smell of her; she reeked of sex and musk and longing, spread all across the bed in her underwear, her long red hair trailing and flying in all directions.

Flops like this meant something else to Logan than simple and anonymous, they meant fucking, and lots of it.

Over the years, he'd had done a lot of fucking with a lot of different women in cheap shit flop pay by the hour rooms like this, and whenever he walked into one, it made him think about it.

But this wasn't just any flop and any floozie, this was Napalm's flop, and she was spread out all over the bed like a picnic lunch.

Good old Napalm. She could really burn you down. With her, it was shit-hot great balls of fire claws out and roaring like a wild animal in full rut.

You didn't know if you were coming or going, and you didn't give a damn, either.

The very thought of her, with her nose in some dirty fuckbook, pawing at herself with shameless hot lust until she fell into a swoon was enough to make Logan's cock stand up and take notice; if Liv was looking for a good time, then he was ready and willing to give it to her.

_Slow down, hoss. Last time you surprised her from a dead sleep she broke your nose. Better wake her up nice and slow._

He got close enough to the head of the bed to see that her other hand was by her head.

In it was yet another one of her filthy superhero comix; her face was resting on the pages.

Logan pulled it out from under her and looked at the cover.

The man in the picture on the front was muscular, fearsome, and hairy, and it was a good likeness.

A drawing of him, in his costume, claws extended.

The title was "Wild, Wild Wolverine!!!!"

_She knocked herself out jerkin' off to a fuckbook about me?_

_ They make fuckbooks about me?_

That was enough for Logan.

It was time to fuck first, and ask questions later.

That was, after all, how Liv liked it.

The growl that was building in his chest rumbled out.

He kicked off his boots, stripped off his shirt and his jeans, and tossed his cowboy hat across the room.

Naked, and with a lewd smile playing across his face, he called her name at the same time as he ever-so-gently prodded at the hollow of her neck with the nearest approaching part of him.

Wake her up nice and slow.

Liv's eyes opened, and she sat up, like a shot.

"What the fuck! Huh? Logan, you crazy son of a bitch, you think that's funny?"

"Well, darlin' I figured I'd wake you up nice and slow. I couldn't even make it to the bridge. I figured I'd be welcome here, judging by that book by your nose. Or should I get dressed and go sleep in the chair?"

"Now would I do a thing like that to you?" Naplam laughed.

She sat up on her knees and took off her tank top and then wriggled out of her boxers, dropping onto her hands and knees.

Liv crooked her finger at him.

"Bring that a little closer to the bed, sugar."

She closed her hot, sure, tattooed little hand at the base of his cock in a fist, and then leaned forward, teasing the head of his dick with the faintest touch of her lips and licked him like he was a Popsicle on a hot day.

Logan moaned, and his legs trembled a little.

Liv chuckled low in her throat and sucked his cock into her mouth, hard.

She grabbed his ass with her other hand, urging him deeper.

He didn't know how she did it; Logan was pretty goddamn big for a big guy, let alone a little guy, and she could make his whole cock disappear like a sword swallower at the circus.

He wound his fingers in her hair, and his eyes rolled in his head.

It was a heavy, obscene sort of pleasure.

Now she had both hands on his ass, urging him to fuck her mouth, and the snarls and groans were coming thick and fast now.

Lust loosened Logan's lips; he ran his hand down the sweaty small of her back and gave her a little smack on the ass.

"That's right, baby. You take it all…." he moaned.

He was trying to get his hand between her legs and Napalm squirmed closer to the end of the bed to oblige him, and she was every bit as wet and sticky-hot as the room around them and the city outside were freezing cold.

She moaned in her throat, and her hands dug into his skin as she slid her thighs around his hand, pulling on his fingers like they were his cock.

Liv gasped and he popped out of her mouth with a wet, sucking sound.

"Naked and savage, that's how I like you. I'm so fucking horny." She told him.

"I know. I can smell it. It's drivin' me crazy, darlin'."

"Good."

Logan got into bed with her, and he pushed her big, round, strong thighs apart, and twining her legs around his shoulders.

So hungry.

So hot.

So good.

She let her head fall back so it was hanging over the bed, and he could hear her, she was actually laughing, laughing and groaning and stroking the nape of his thick neck.

"…ooooo, you really fuckin' like it, don't you…"

Yes, he did.

"….oooo, I like it too."

Moving around on the bed in the moonlight.

"…c'mon, stud, gimme somethin' to suck on…"

Even better.

Almost one hundred years on this rotten, stinking Earth and there weren't many women who could suck your dick like she could.

So hungry.

So hot.

So good.

And he was thrusting into her mouth and she was grinding against his face, and there was moaning and snuffling and licking and sucking and squelching and gasping, and finally laughing and laughing.

***

Darlin', I can't make a fist. I think you sucked the marrow right outa my bones."

"Yeah, well, I can't feel the bed under me. I feel so good. My fuckin' toes are wigglin, because even my toes feel good."

Now he was holding her against his sweaty chest.

Three hundred pounds of heavenly joy.

"I got s'more good news for ya, darlin'."

"I know what that is."

She rolled over and put on the light.

"What the hell we doin' it in the dark for. God-damn, look at you. All naked and hairy and sweaty and hard. What a piece of work is man. The paragon of animals."

"You quotin' Shakeaspeare, again, Liv?"

"I dunno, Logan. Sometimes you bring out the hopeless romantic in me."

She laughed and fell back onto the mattress.

"So, ya gonna stick it where ya licked it?"

They both laughed.

"Are you drunk, darlin'?"

"Not really. I just feel real good." Liv said, and lazily tweaked one of her nipples.

"Let me do that."

Tweak.

"Oooooo…hee hee."

"You're bad. Roll it over, darlin'." Logan suggested.

With a lusty leer, Napalm got on her hands and knees, and Logan got up behind her.

He ran his tongue from the small of her back up to the nape of her neck, tasting the salty sweat he'd made her break out in, and, moaning, Liv opened her thighs further to him, rubbing up against with a lustful laugh.

"Ain't nothin' like the real thing, baby." She growled.

She didn't want pain and he didn't want to give it to her, but she liked it hard, and fast, and for as long as she could get it; he was big but she could take it; she was one of those girls who had to have it, the bigger cock and the badder, hairier brute attached to it, the better.

Logan pushed his cock into her, slowly, letting her pull him in, and then he started thrusting hard, pumping her full of cock, the way he knew she liked it.

Liv moaned, she keened and wailed and even howled; she wasn't too talkative while you were fucking her; she couldn't manage the words.

She pushed back hard, against him, and he grabbed hold of her hips with one hand, pushing her ass higher into the air, rotating his hips around so he could hit that spot…

"YOOOOWWWWWWOOOOO! OH, FUCK, LOGAN, HOLY SHIT!!!..."

He threw back his head and laughed like a villain in a melodrama, and gave her another smack on the ass, which elicited another yowl from him and she was pushing back against him, squeezing his cock so good that the laugh turned into a great, growling rumbling moan.

Liv could feel his chest rumbling against her; she purred in kind.

"Darlin', you are gonna kill me…"

"Not yet, goddamn you…don't you dare…almost there…wooah!...Oooah!...yow…yow… AWOOOOOOOYOWOWWOWWWOOOOOOOOO!"

Every muscle in her body seized up, and she started bucking off the bed; the girl was strong for her size and she almost bucked them both right off the bed.

That was around the time he went off, while she was still going off, and when Logan went off, he went off.

His eyes crossed, his head whirled, and he took his hands off her and threw his arms out in a big hurry, shaking his sweaty head and roaring, every muscle and tendon in _extremis_ like he had stepped on a live wire, his claws singing out of his hands as the roar tore out of his chest and throat.

_**SNIKT!**_

"****!"

Then, feeling more than a little dizzy and light in his head, he collapsed over her, retracting his claws and putting his arms around her, gasping for breath with his face against her soaking wet back.

They were both panting, and heaving for air, and Logan realised it would be a little easier for Napalm to breathe without 300 pounds of jellified Wolverine pressing down on her back, so he reared up off her and flopped onto the mattress.

Their bodies parted with a rude, sticky sound that made them both laugh as Liv flopped down beside him.

"Whiskey, Logan. Whiskey." She gasped.

He took a pull off the bottle before handing it to her and after a healthy belt, Liv put the bottle on the floor beside them.

"I got cold beer in that little fridge in the corner. As soon as I can move, I'll get some."

Logan didn't have to ask what she had, it was a cinch it was Guinness in bottles or Newcastle Brown in cans.

Napalm preferred stout, but in a pinch she'd drink German, Canadian or Australian brews, but, in her opinion, American beer was like making love in a canoe.

It was fucking close to water.

She got up and got the beer, and a pizza box, and put on another record.

They sat up in bed and went to work polishing off a few beers the remaining half of a pepperoni and sausage pizza.

"Why did you run out on me, anyway, Logan? You know I look forward to fucking you, oops, I mean, seeing you, all week long?" Liv teased him.

"I didn't know you had a room here, darlin'. I thought you were gonna let me have the truck and take the subway, because of this shitty weather. I was pretty goddamn pissed off about havin' to miss my night with you."

"I gotta great idea, Logan. Let's hole up in here all day tomorrow. We can get more booze from downstairs, the kitchen opens early and closes late, and the weather out there is lousy. It'll be like in the summer. When all we did was eat, drink, drive, fuck, and fight."

"I like that idea. You got anything else ta eat?"

"Yeah. I got a bag of chips under the bed…wait…here ya go. An' don't get crumbs in my bed, or I'll shoot youse in the head."

Logan crunched away at a handful of chips and passed Napalm the bag.

"That won't kill me, yunno." He said.

"Yeah. I know. But it'll give ya somethin' to think about. Wait. I think I got a carton of chicken fried rice in the fridge, too. Lemme go check. Y'wanna 'nother beer?"

"Sure, darlin'."

Logan got , carefully brushed the crumbs out of his chest hair and onto the floor, and put the TV on.

He found a late night movie, a Western.

Liv got back into bed with him, they had another beer and polished off the Chinese food, then they pulled up the blankets, curled up together against the cold, and let the TV put them to sleep.

Just another Wednesday in the life of Wild Wild Wolverine!!!!


	2. The Inexhaustible Iron Man!

**Chapter 2: The Inexhaustible Iron Man!**

**Excerpt From "The Inexhaustible Iron Man" by , Anita Johnson, Masked Romance Press**

_The doctors had thought he would be better, by now._

_ They had thought that going home from the hospital would do something, jog his memory, create some spark to make him come out of the shell he was in._

_ It was a horrible thought._

_ Tony, everything that was Tony, a prisoner of his magnificent mind, lost somewhere inside himself, perhaps never to return._

_ Things certainly looked grave for Tony Stark._

_ Pepper didn't mind taking care of him._

_ She certainly had before. After all out of all the women Tony had, who was it that took care of him?_

_ Who was it that gave a damn about him, at all?_

_ Just her._

_ But how could she ever break her own rules about duty, dignity and professionalism to tell Tony that she loved him?_

_ All the times she could have told him._

_ Should have told him._

_ Now, what could in mean to the empty hulk, the shell of the man who had once been the great Tony Stark, the secret love of her life?_

_ She wrestled with that question, in the hospital for all those long months, and now, that his doctors had sent him home, a vegetable, beyond any capacity to love or be loved, to understand or be understood, she cursed herself for wasting every opportunity she had._

_ Days dragged into weeks, weeks into months, and the same routine._

_ Getting him out of bed, dressing him, walking him downstairs._

_ He had to be fed like a baby, and the only things that seemed to elicit any response from his once brilliant mind, now, were children's television shows and cartoons._

_ Pepper often sat with Tony and read him the newspaper; she knew it meant nothing to him, anymore, but it made her feel better._

_ But today, she reached the end of her rope, in the middle of the news, and she broke down and cried, flinging the newspaper all over the table._

_ He still looked like Tony, he was as handsome as ever, the face of a classic star of the silver screen, the body of an Adonis, but this was Tony's shell._

_ Where had he gone?_

_ Pepper ran to him, grabbed hold of the collar of the white shirt she had so carefully washed and ironed and buttoned him into, and shook him, shouting into his doll-like visage._

_ "Where are you Tony? Damn it, where the hell did you go?"_

_ He looked at her, quizzically, and then moved her aside, gently._

_ She was blocking his view of the cartoons on television._

_ Pepper grabbed Tony's collar again, demanding his attention._

_ "How could you leave me like this? Don't you know that I love you? That I've always loved you? Every time you put on that suit and flew away, I knew you might not come back, but I never expected this! This living death! You're here, but you're not here. You, but not you! Come back to me, Tony! Come back! Can't you see, I need you? Oh, Tony, I love you! I love you!"_

_ Nothing._

_ No reaction at all._

_ His handsome face that she shaved every morning, and trimmed his moustache, remained doll-like and inert._

_ Pepper could bear it no longer._

_ She crumpled to the floor by his chair, in a heap, and wept, openly._

_ Then, it happened._

_ A miracle._

_ "Don't cry, Pepper. Please, my darling. I love you, too."_

_ Could it be?_

_ Was Tony back again?_

_ And he was helping her now, getting her back on her feet with strong and gentle hands, standing up, on his own, and she could see in his eyes that he had come back to himself._

_ "Tony? What happened?"_

_ "I can explain, Pepper. The Mandarin, he put me in some kind of trance, locked me so far away in my own mind that I couldn't escape. But when you said that you loved me; it broke the spell. I'm free. And I love you, Pepper. I've always loved you. Always wanted you. When I'm with those other women, all those other women, I think about you."_

_ Pepper backed away from his kiss, but there was nowhere to back away, but against the table._

_ Tony pushed her up against it with his body, their bodies flush with each other, not an inch of space between them, and, as he kissed her, Pepper tasted heaven on her lips._

_ So pure._

_ So passionate._

_ So perfect._

_ "Pepper, my darling, my love." He whispered in her ear._

_ She hardly realised that he had lifted her onto the table; she didn't know what to do when she saw him unbuttoning the shirt that a few hours ago he couldn't even have taken off the hanger._

_ Love was not a physical thing for Pepper Potts; she found herself strangely unmoved by the physical act of lovemaking, but she loved Tony so much, she wouldn't deny him._

_ He had been a mind trapped in an inert body for so long, and his love was so great, his need so great, that she could see as he unzipped the carefully ironed trousers she put on him, she would not refuse him._

_ Pepper felt nothing but love for him as he slowly, gently, carefully undressed her, whispering endearments to her all along. _

_ She felt nothing but love for him when they were naked in each other's arms, but, as he kissed her again, their nude bodies pressed together, Pepper began to feel something more than love._

_ Her face flushed._

_ The sight of his muscular torso, liberally sprinkled with whorls of soft black hair, and the touch of his throbbing manhood, so strong, so proud, against her thigh made her feel fluttery inside._

_ "Tony, please, I…I don't know what's happening to me."_

_ He laughed and it was such a manful sound that Pepper felt weak, and she could feel her heart beating faster._

_ "I think I've awakened the sleeping tiger within you, Pepper, my love." He whispered, softly into her ear, nipping ever so gently at her earlobe._

_ Pepper shuddered, and pressed herself against his tall, strong, body, helpless in the face of the emotions he was arousing in her._

_ Tony began to caress her, and kiss her, in all of the secret places of her body, in ways other men had before, but none so masterfully, and with none did she experience such voluptuous delight._

_ Finally, she could bear it no longer._

_ "Oh, Tony, I need you! Take me! Please, take me. Oh, Tony, make me a woman!" she cried._

_ He wrapped his strong arms around her and told her he loved her as their bodies were joined in the act of love._

_ Pepper cried out as their pleasure mounted, it was too much, far too much, and in that penultimate moment she nearly fainted away, crumpling against his strong chest._

_ "Now you're mine, forever, darling." Tony told her, stroking her damp hair as she clung to him, trembling._

_ "Oh Tony, Tony I love you. Forever! Forever!"_

_Author's Note: I am convinced that Tony Stark is Iron Man, and that whole bodyguard story is just his cover. I have no real proof, so call it creative licence. He can sue me if he wants to, but why would he want to? It's not as if I have slandered him. Also, if his secretary wants to sue me for this, then she's just crazy!_

**Napalm's Notes:** I LOVE THIS BOOK! I read the whole thing, from cover to cover to Tony one day and he nearly laughed himself into seizures. It's so sloshy, and gooey, and slopping over with cheap sentimental romance novel horseshit. But when you think about it, it's weird . And sick. We get a zillion chapters of Tony in the hospital, lying in bed, wasting away from some weird psychosomatic disease that only makes him look more handsome, and Pepper mooning over him and drooling while he lies there, totally inert. That's unusual. Then another zillion of Pepper Potts mooning over Tony while she takes care of him because he's suffering from this bizarre disease. Which is pretty gross when you think of it, because, the book never makes clear, as Tony pointed out, whether or not he can go to the john by himself. Then, when he snaps out of it, right when he snaps out of it, after he's been this drooling idiot for a months, there's your usual corny romance novel sex scene, but on a table. Sick and wrong. Could you really still be horny for somebody if you had to feed them and dress them like a giant baby? Wouldn't you be alarmed if they suddenly came back to life and the first thing they wanted to do was ball you on the kitchen table while Bugs Bunny was on TV? And the second half of the book is all that hooty hubba hubba hump-a-thon bullshit, but in this really roundabout way, where you can't tell if they're having sex or making a salad. This one's worth its weight in gold, especially if you know what Tony's really like in bed. I hope Pepper never reads it. She wouldn't sue this broad, she'd kill her.

**Avengers Mansion, New York City, 1974**

Deep beneath bustling Fifth Avenue, in the super-secure sub-sub basement of Avengers Mansion, at the end of a vacuum-sealed corridor behind an adamantium door a foot thick, the Avengers met in solemn secrecy, to discuss the fate of the city, the country, and the world.

"…and now, on top of that, it seems like the fragile peace we brokered in the Kree-Skrull war is beginning to fray…"

Tony Stark, with his Iron Man helmet sitting beside him on the table, looked at Steve Rogers with justifiable dismay.

He looked around the table.

Thor didn't seem concerned, but, then again, it took an awful lot to ruffle Thor. He was a God who cut his teeth on smashing Frost Giants un-nameable millennia ago, and, in the old, old days, he and Loki had actually been close, so a little Kree-Skrull war and the streets of New York obviously turning into the crime-ridden cesspool of a concrete jungle Napalm had been claiming they were since 1966 didn't seem to him like too big of a job to handle.

He looked superficially interested, but you could tell that he just wanted to go someplace and get drunk, preferably with Logan, who was pretty much the only terrestrial being he could go drinking with.

Beast was listening, intently, pausing every once in awhile to push his glasses up his nose. His expression was inscrutable; but Dr. Henry McCoy wasn't very easy to read himself, although, every once in awhile he would shake his head, sadly.

This, however, was no evidence at all of what he might have been thinking about.

Probably what he was going to wear tonight on his date with Miss Mutant du Jour.

Hulk had his giant green face in his giant green hand; he looked unbelievably bored.

He didn't want to hear about what was wrong, or why, or with who, he wanted to be pointed in the direction of whoever he was supposed to be smashing, smash them, and then, hopefully, there would be some large women around who were grateful for his effort, who were good cooks, as well.

And Carol—

--Ms. Marvel, Tony, be professional—

Carol looked great in her costume. She was probably paying the closest attention to what Cap was saying; as one of the newest team members she didn't realise that the shithouse was usually quite close to going up in flames.

Too bad she'd never go along with his little fantasy.

"…now I've been meeting with Superman about this heroin situation, and the French Connection may be kaput, but that doesn't explain the amount of poor dead kids stuffed in every trash can with a needle sticking out of them…"

Jesus, that was depressing.

Tony wondered if Napalm would really actually do it.

He'd been talking about it since he met her back in '71 and she said yes, in theory, but would she really do it, in practice?

"…and according to Pete Parker, the Kingpin is moving in on Gambino territory and that, of course means war…"

Now Emma, she would do it, but only if you kissed her ass for her for the next ten years or so. And even if she liked it, and, how could she not, she'd throw it up to him all the time like it was something he made her do.

Tony looked at the big brass "A" in the middle of the table and imagined Napalm spread out across it, all sweaty and naked and raunchy, like the fire-haired porno queen of all superhero ultravixens.

He didn't want anyone but Napalm for it; it had to be Napalm.

"…and, as Beast can tell you, our mutant brothers in the X-Men are still having some serious problems being seen as heroes…"

What it would be like; the look of mad, intemperate lust on her face as he got up on the table with her, those big, strong, round, creamy white thighs wrapping around his waist…

…God, yes, it had to be Napalm, it had to be her…

Wait.

Why was everyone looking at him?

"TONY!"

Iron Man jumped.

"Am I boring you, Tony? I'm sorry that you find the whole city sliding down the drain while we're threatened with intergalactic war boring, but if you'd like to come back to this planet, I'm trying to hold a damn briefing!" Cap snapped.

"I'm sorry. I was listening to every word, and I do agree with you. If we are going to combat this explosion of drugs and crime, we are going to have to work with the X-Men, the JLA, and the Watchmen. But, I think that should be our first priority. After all, we can't very well get on a soapbox and tell the world and the galaxy what to do if we let our own city crash and burn around us." Tony replied.

"Verily, Iron Man, thou speakest truth! The Gods of Asgard and others have watched the cosmos for all time beyond your telling. Which means bthey may be left to do so a while longer, that we might save the ship we're sailing before it sinks." Thor agreed.

Hulk pounded on the table.

"Hulk doesn't care if we go to Harlem, Brooklyn, or the Moon! Just do something and go somewhere! Hulk bored! Too much talking!" he said.

"I agree with the Hulk. We need to do something right away. I'll talk to the team at the X-Mansion, immediately. God only knows we need the good publicity."

"I may be able to help get Alpha Flight involved." Ms. Marvel volunteered.

"And I'll talk to Clark about us coordinating our efforts. And Eddie." Cap decided.

But Tony was on a roll.

"We should have done something about this years earlier! Since 1966, the Harlequin has been waving a red flag at all of us, trying to tell us there are people we're missing, problems we're not attending to. She, and the Comedian, him since I was in rompers, have been wading around in the sewer battling it out with the sharks for years. But the Harlequin, especially. It's her mission to clean up the messes other masks don't get to, and she has the scars all over her body to prove it. I say it's time to put on the hip-waders and send in the 7th Cavalry. We'll just need to find a really big bulletproof vest for the big green guy."

"Hulk not need vest!"

"It was a joke, Hulk."

***

Tony was feeling like that was a good save as the meeting broke up, but after everyone left, Steve called him aside.

"That was some creative pulling your fat out of the fire, Tony."

"What do you mean, Steve?"

Cap gave him his best Don't Bullshit Me, Soldier look.

"Look, Tony, I haven't had the pleasure, but from what I understand, it's considerable, and I can't say I haven't found my uniform getting a little too tight under one of Napalm's appraising looks."

"How did you know I was thinking about Napalm?"

"I heard you mutter her name under your breath while you had that faraway silly dirty littler grin on your face."

"Woops! Sorry."

"And I also know I haven't any good news to report and it's the same bad news every week, but you'd better keep your mind on the briefings from here on out. And, I hate to remind you, but as tolerant as Eddie is of Liv's little indiscretions with her fans, and her Wednesdays with Logan, the idea of you sitting next to her makes him want to crush your head like a gourd. I think he's figured out what goes on when he's out of town, and the only reason he hasn't bent you into a pretzel yet is because it happens when he's out of town."

"Well, not always."

"Listen to me, Tony. I'm your friend. Quit thinking with your dick. If you've got a bug up your ass about Napalm, do what you have to do to get it out of your system. Quietly. In private. Just don't bring it to meetings with you, alright?"

"Alright."

"What is it about her? I like Liv. She's a nice girl when she's not working, and she's smart, and pretty in that little Irish imp sort of way, but you've got every girl in the world chasing you."

Tony laughed and shook his head.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I know I'm going to regret saying this, but, yes."

"Well, Napalm has a secret identity. Apart from being the Harlequin. Underneath the Levis and the coveralls and the motor oil and bloodstains, she really is like a bad fairy. The red-headed porno queen of superhero ultravixens. And, she has a beautiful mind. Like a giant whirring machine full of big grinding gears, roaring like a jet engine. One thousand thoughts per millisecond. Sandwich the two together, and that's quite a girl."

Steve looked at him quizzically.

"I'm going to have to think about what you meant by that."

"You might not want to."

"You're probably right."

***

Tony put a lot of thought into it, and he decided that if he wanted to get this whole thing out of his system, as Steve suggested, he was going to have to make his fantasy into a reality.

But, he couldn't exactly ask her about it in public, during one of their lunches at Grossmann's.

Sitting in his gleaming glass and chrome steel office at the tippitty-top of the skyscraper that housed Stark Industries, the gears in the magnificent machine that was Tony's mind were grinding away, as well, when, as fortune would have it, Pepper stuck her head in his the door.

"Are you talking calls, today, Tony?"

"What? Oh. Depends on who it is."

"It's Liv. There was a whole lot of swearing, and something about a Ford V-8 and an engine block."

"I'll take this one."

"I'll lock your door."

Tony was trying to figure that out when he got on the phone with Napalm.

"Hello?"

"That fucking son of a bitch, Moloch, I've got a good mind to go up there to Arkham and drown him in his own fucking toilet, after I've shoved a plunger up his ass! The goddamn engine is still leaking oil!"

"That means it's going to have to come out, again. Naplam, don't be so pig headed…"

"Don't tell me to get a new fucking engine! What would be the pint of the car if I got a new fucking engine! Son of a bitch had to shoot the engine block! He just had to!"

"I agree with you. I was going to tell you to quit being so pig-headed and let me help you."

"Huh? Oh. That's right. You've got two Ford V-8's, don't you? Well, alright, you talked me into it. How soon can you be here?"

"I have to change my clothes, first, then I'll be right over. Are you at Mason's, or at home?"

"Home."

Tony went to Wayne Manor, and after six hours or so of working and cursing, they had the 1933 V-8 running like a dream.

"Let's take her out. I know this place in Jersey, they got the best Chinese food in the whole state."

"Wait a minute, Liv. We've got some business to discuss. Something I can't talk to you about at a restaurant."

"Yeah? Shoot."

"I've been having a lot of trouble concentrating on my work with the Avengers, lately. I don't have to tell you that this whole city is exploding like a volcano of vice, and it's bad news, bad news, bad news. Unemployment. Urban blight. Police corruption. Mobbed-up politicians. Hard drugs flowing through the streets like water. Muggers and rapists and thugs and pushers and whackos and pervs and nutjobs with knives and guns and pieces of pipe behind every bush. And every day, in comes another busload and planeload and carload of hopeful, hapless rubes from the Great Unwashed Masses of the Silent Majority like little lambs to the slaughter. It boggles the mind."

"I've been sayin' that for years. But, we're already gettin' this Superhero Coalition together and yunno, it might make a dent in it."

"Yes, well, personally, it's taking quite a toll on me. I've been having more days when I have more than my five drinks than less. I can't concentrate at briefings. I'm being pulled three ways. I've got Nick Fury shaking my hand while S.H.I.E.L.D tries to steal my father's company from me behind my back, I've got my work as CEO to do, and then, of course, I am Iron Man. I need to do something for me, or I'm going to snap like a dry and brittle twig. I do have a bad heart, you know."

Tony tapped on the softly glowing disc under his robe.

Okay, so he was laying it on a little thick.

"Sounds like you need to spend another coupla weeks at the MORC, Tony."

"I had something else in mind."

"What? You trying to get me to do some dirty work for you? Whatever it is, I'll do it, but I ain't goin' in alone."

"Something like that, Liv. I want you to help me fulfill a fantasy I've had since the Avengers first started."

"You mean your Round Table shag fantasy?"

"Yes. And before you say no, it's not just because you're the only woman I know with the highest possible level security clearance, or the only woman I know with the highest possible level security clearance that I could convince. You know me, Napalm. I can convince almost any woman to do almost any thing. It has to be you, Liv. I'm looking to share my most secret, dirty, raunchy fantasy with the fire-haired porno queen of all superhero ultravixens. That's you, and only you. Well? What do you say?'

Napalm raised an eyebrow, and laughed a little.

She went over to the fridge in the garage, and got two cans of Newcastle Brown Ale.

"What was that again? What kind of ultravixen?" she asked, as she handed one of the beers to Tony.

"The fire-haired porno queen of all superhero ultravixens."

"I like that. I think I'm gonna have that put on a tee shirt. Or maybe some business cards. Use it in my promotional material. Okay, Tony, lemme get this straight. You want me to go with you to the Avengers Mansion under the cover of some fuckin' fish story about us doin' some work for the historic Superhero Coalition, and misuse my security clearance to get into the Avengers sanctum sanctorum under false pretences. Then, you want me, me, who's partners with one of Cap's oldest friends and collaborators, me, who had this Thor's hammer symbol personally etched on my skin my the hand of Thor himself, marking me as a warrior for Valhalla, to get naked, and plop my ass down on top of the big brass A in the middle of the table. Then I'm to go at it with you in your usually dizzying array of presto-chango-rearrango positions, hammer and tongs, hot and heavy, like a couple of fucking jackrabbits in springtime on Yellow Sunshine? On the table where Thor rests his hammer and Captain America lays his shield, and just get pretty much get pussy all over the fuckin' place?" Liv asked.

Tony sipped his beer, thoughfully.

"You know, it sounds even dirtier when you say it that way. I was planning on bringing a cushion to put over the "A", I wouldn't want you to hurt that fine, big ass of yours. Come on, Napalm. We'll clean the table off. And don't get all full of pomp and circumstance on me, now. I know for a fact you went on a joyride with Wolverine in the X-Jet to join the Mile High Club. Besides, you've been out drinking with Thor. If he knew, he'd think it was funny. And Don Blake is your doctor, so nothing you can do would surprise Thor, anyway. I know Hulk would think it was funny. Cap would get over the shock, and as for Henry, I'm surprised he hasn't done it, himself."

"You know, Tony, it's a good thing for you that I'm a cheerful fuckin' degenerate who'll really go outa her way for a good fuck and a cheap, dirty thrill. Fuck yeah, I'll do it. Sounds like fun. When do you wanna do this?"

"How about Monday? Around noon? Meet me at the Avengers Mansion. Wear your costume. Not your usual costume, the one you wear for promotional purposes. Let's drink to it."

They clanked their cans together.

"Well, you ready to go eat Chinese food?"

"What about Eddie?"

"Awww, he's watchin' football tonight. He'll be glued to the tube until eleven."

"Do I get to drive?"

"Its' my fuckin' car!"

"You can drive home."

"Sold."

When he returned to his penthouse, around midnight, as he was getting ready for bed, Tony thought about his plan and had a slight twinge of guilt.

It passed.

After all, he was getting overworked and over-stressed, spreading himself too thin.

For ten years he'd been walking around with a jumped-up battery in the wall of his chest, juggling being an entrepreneur, a jet-set playboy, and, most importantly, a superhero to whom the fate of the most insignificant person he could help was as important as that of the world which he and the Avengers had saved a few times over.

And he'd been trying to stay sober.

If he had to do something a little naughty to keep body and soul together, well, so what?

The Avengers were his idea, and the room in question was in his family's mansion.

So who, exactly, had the right to stop him?

Nobody, that's who.

Tony rolled over and picked up his phone.

"Hello, Natasha. Did I wake you up?"

***

As soon as the thick adamantium door closed them off in the soundproof, bombproof, foolproof room, Tony, who was wearing his armor, flipped up the visor of his helmet in dismay.

"What happened to your other costume?"

"Use your head, Tony. If I show up here in a low cut leotard and a little checkered schoolgirl skirt wearing checkered stockings and garters and shiny shiny lace-up leather and chrome platform boots, and we go into a room together, alone, everybody who sees me is going to know there's no business afoot but monkey business. If you wanna bend me over a table and unsnap the snaps on my leotard and ball me stupid in my costume, we'll hafta do that in private, some other day."

"You sound like that's not an unusual request."

"Nope. Eddie and Logan, it drives 'em both crazy. I think it's the little schoolgirl skirt. I figure, shit, I never dress like a girl, I wear boxer shorts, gotta do somethin', sometime. Okay, this is your fantasy, sugar. Whaddya want me to do?"

"Watch this."

Tony took a remote control out of his briefcase, and his suit removed itself and he packed it away.

Into the briefcase.

He wasn't wearing anything under it.

"How the fuck did you do that?"

"I'll tell you all about it…when you come to work with me. Now, just what happens, Miss Napier, if I pull this zipper down?"

Tony unzipped Liv's costume, which was still pretty much a pair of space age coveralls, all the way down to her hip, and found she had nothing on under it, either.

"You get me pretty close to naked. And I wore my engineer boots, so I can just pull 'em off."

"May I unmask you?"

"Oh, by all means."

Just thinking about what they were going to do made Tony hard, and he felt the tremour go through Liv when he pressed his body against hers, licking the hollow of her neck behind her ear, in that spot that made her go molten as he took off her mask, and pushed her costume to the floor.

"You're never going to forget this, Napalm. I am going to fuck you so that every time any other man touches you, you're going to think only of me. For a long, long, long time." He whispered in her ear.

Tony loved to talk dirty to women while he was making love to them, and most of them liked it, too.

Napalm did, more than she wanted to admit.

He picked her up and put her on the end of the table.

The cushion awaited in the middle, but that was for later.

For right now, they were right in front of his chair.

She opened her legs for him like he'd waved a magic wand.

Tony continued to kiss her ears, and her neck, cupping her breasts that overflowed from his hands, tweaking and squeezing her nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

His stiff cock nuzzled against the sensitive tops of her thighs.

Liv moaned, and swore under her breath.

He whispered breathily in her ears the whole time.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this. You're so bad, Napalm. Such a dirty, dirty girl. Did you think about what we were going to do today, when you were alone? In your bed? Did you think about parking your hot little ass on that cushion and me giving you every inch of my big, thick, stiff cock, right here on the Avengers meeting table? I'll bet you did. You bad little girl."

As he spoke, he worked his way down, sucking and licking her taut nipples, kissing her rounded belly as he sunk into his chair.

Tony pressed his thumb against the mouth of her pussy, which was burning hot and streaming wet.

He looked up at her, cocking an eyebrow, and winked.

"You _are_ going to get pussy all over everything, aren't you?" he asked.

"Especially you." Liv growled.

She was all done dancing around with him, and grabbed him by the hair and pulled.

She was so wet, tasted so good, she was getting pussy all over him, making those wild animal noises she made when she got excited.

She was pulling his hair and pushing him away at the same time, it was too much, almost too much pleasure for her, the feeling of his long fingers inside her pushing and stroking at the same time as he actually started sucking on her clit, tapping it with his tongue, and she was screaming and screaming, and when he moved his head away she almost punched him.

"You bastard! I hate it when you fucking tease me!" she yelled.

"I'm not teasing you. Would I do something like that?"

Tony lifted Liv off the table and pulled her into his lap, sliding her, slowly, down the length of his cock.

She had been at the very peak of her pleasure and came, violently, with a gasp of pleasure and surprise.

"Good girl. You come so nicely for me. And your hot little burning bush feels so good on my cock. Just as good as it tastes."

He held onto her hips, pushing back against her, his hands on her breasts, again, watching her pout and moan with heavy lidded eyes as she rode him, hard.

He spanked her sharply on her ass.

"That's it. Ride me. Make me come."

Tony was a lot closer to coming than he thought he was; it was easy to lose control when you were with Napalm, she was fire and she burned you down, right to the bone, left you as ashes and soot.

He put her back up on the table; he had to get into her, faster, harder, deeper, devolving into grunts and groans, clasping her sweaty body against his chest.

She had her legs wrapped right up tight around his ass; they were face to face, but neither of their eyes were open.

She was getting close and this wasn't what he wanted, yet, but it was so good; she felt so good and if she came he knew he was done, she was going to take him with her.

"You evil minx. You're going to make me come."

Just as he was having an explosion, Liv pushed away from him.

"What did you do that for?" he asked.

She smiled, evilly.

"Look what you did, Tony. You blew your load all over the table."

Lust filled Tony's head like smoke and his ears started ringing like a fire alarm.

"Get your hot little ass up on that cushion, you wicked, evil, filthy ultravixen!"

How was it he was hard again, already?

Was it her?

Was it the fact that this was, hands down, bar none, the most obscene thing he had ever done in his life?

A little of both.

He sat down in his chair for a minute, looking for his breath, rubbing the sweat from his eyes.

"Tony? Oh Tony? Where oh where has my Iron Man gone? Oh where , oh where can he be?" Liv sang out, with a low evil chuckle.

Tony looked up, and there she was, right in the middle of the table, spread out as pretty as a dirty picture.

She was sitting back on her elbows, looking at him with hellfire in her green eyes gone all yellowy with lust.

Her knees were wide apart, one leg was bent and the other straight, and she was just waiting for him.

Now, Liv had been with Tony many times, and she never saw him lose his cool, before.

He fucked the way Errol Flynn fenced in all those swashbuckler movies, with a grin on his lips, passionately and knowingly, because he knew he had you all the time, right where he wanted to.

But, as he rose out of his chair, the light from his chest plate flared so bright it nearly blinded her, and he bounded up into the table, six feet and one inch of hard-charging well-muscled male animal, completely deranged with plain old hog lust.

He was on top of her, breathing hard, sweating harder; the hair on his chest and his arms looked like he'd just gotten out of a swimming pool, and beads of sweat rolled from his head and fell onto her face and chest.

Not to mention that, just like he used to like to joke about it, his dick did look hard enough to hammer a two inch nail into a board.

"My God, Napalm, do you know what you do to me?" he moaned.

"Burns, don't it?" she replied.

It had been two years, but it looked to her like this time, she might actually win.

Napalm stole him with a kiss, pulled him down into her hair, and then he was doing it.

Just like in his fantasy.

He was fucking her like crazy, enveloped in her round, strong, creamy white thighs with her arms and her legs wrapped around him, lost in her long hair, balls-deep in her tight, snapping, hot little red pussy, the sound of her sweet moans and cries of pleasure floating into his ears.

"Harder, Tony! Harder!" She moaned.

Harder? I might break the table….fuck it.

"Oh, SHIT, GOD-DAMN, Oh FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

In a stream of obscenities and a howl like a wolf at the full moon, Liv came and came and came, her little pussy pulling on his cock and squeezing and squeezing until he though that this much pleasure was just going to make his heart stop.

The whole room was awash in blue light.

And he was glad he'd come before, because he was close, but not quite ready, close as he moved them both around so he was kneeling on the cushion with his knees slightly apart and his ass against his heels, with her red head lying against his thigh.

Liv knew Tony hadn't come, and she opened her eyes and saw him kneeling above her, his big, stiff cock jutting proudly out from between his hairy, muscular thighs, his long, lean, hairy chest heaving, looking down at her with a dancing devilish twinkle of merry debauchery in his big blue eyes.

This was it.

The big payoff.

She got on all fours in front of him and draped her body over his thighs, taking his cock in her mouth, all of it, all the way, until her nose was snuffling around the hair on his balls, which banged against her chin.

Tony saw stars.

Just like in the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and wound one hand in her hair.

"Ohhh, Liv, baby, you're the best, nobody sucks my dick like you do…please, please, please!"

He had one hand on her head and the other caressed her breasts and tweaked her nipples before his thumb found still swollen clit as he slipped his fingers inside her, pushing up against her sweet spot.

New jolts of pleasure washed over her.

She sucked him harder, pushing against his hand and he was thrusting into her mouth; this time they were going to come together.

She came in his hand as he came in her mouth, beating his chest with one hand like King Kong and, yes, crying out:

"I _AM_ IRON MAN!"

Liv sat back on her heels, gasping, and she began to laugh, breathlessly.

"What a performance! What a performance!: she said, and applauded.

"Thank you. Thank you very much." Tony panted.

Tony somehow found the strength to slide into his chair and he pulled Liv onto his lap.

She relaxed against his chest and Tony let his head fall back and they both fell asleep for a little while, a half hour, maybe.

"I think that was another tie, Tony."

"Yes, it was."

"So, was it everything you imagined it would be?"

Tony sighed, happily.

"Beyond my wildest expectations, Napalm. You wouldn't happen to have some fantasy I could help you fulfill, do you?" he asked.

She grinned at him, evilly.

"Not until you figure a way to do it with the suit on." She said.

***

They used the attached bathroom and some soap, towels and washcloths Liv brought in her knapsack to tidy themselves up, and then the paper towels, Lysol and Pledge he's brought to clean the room up.

They both put their costumes back on, and left, making sure to look businresslike a nd talk shop with worried frowns on their faces as they walked through the mansion.

Tony walked Liv out onto Fifth Avenue where her motorcycle awaited.

"Well, I'm going home to take a nap. I hafta work tonight, ya know."

"You look pretty tired, Liv. Why don't you come back to my apartment, take a shower, lie down for awhile, and you can leave, later."

"I'll make it, Tony. Seeya for lunch tomorrow. At Grossmann's, as usual. And thank you for a lovely afternoon."

"I'm buying." Tony promised her.

She seemed sort of surprised that he kissed her goodbye, but not unhappy, and then Tony strutted back into the Mansion, whistling.

He used his seldom-used apartment there to take a long, hot shower.

He came out, wrapped in a towel, and, sitting on his couch in his regular street clothes, jeans and a tee shirt, was Steve.

Tony ducked back into the bathroom and put his robe on.

"Drink?"

"Yeah. Make it a double. Tell me, Tony, how long have you been completely out of your God damn mind?"

"Oh, my whole life. Genius and madness come together. What went wrong?"

"You forgot the security cameras. You know, the super secret super spy Stark Industries cameras that nobody can see."

Tony drank both their drinks, and poured two more.

"Oh Christ! Who saw?" he asked, giving Steve his drink.

"Just me. Lucky for you, I was leaving and I said goodbye to the security guards, and at first I thought they were watching a dirty movie on one of the TV's. Then I realised those people on the monitor and the room they were in looked awfully familiar. I did a double take, just like Abbott and Costello, but sure enough, it was you and Liv Napier, going at it, right in the middle of the meeting table. So, I hurried up and sat on the desk in front of that monitor and talked to the guards about Sunday's game, and if they were going to watch tonight, and how we were going to do this year, all the time looking over my shoulder, to see if you crazies were done yet. And you yelled "I AM IRON MAN" so loud that the motion mic on the camera picked it up. I had to have a nice, big coughing fit. Then you both went to sleep for an hour, so I had to get into telling stories about the old days. When I finally saw an empty room, I reached under the table, took out the tape, slid another tape in there and asked if they minded me taking a blank Betamax tape, I'd bring a replacement tomorrow. And here I am. Needing that drink."

"Do you want me to explain?"

"Explain what?"

"Why I did it."

"I think that's pretty self-explanatory, Tony."

"Can I have the tape?"

"Not on your life! If I have it, it's safe and it will never see the light of day, because I'm going to destroy it. If you have it, you'll watch it next time you get tight, and God only knows who will see it. Tell me the truth. Do you have this out of your system, now?"

Tony just nodded.

"I'm not telling Napalm I know. And you are not telling her I know, either. You should be ashamed of yourself, Tony! Talking a 24-year-old kid into doing something like that! I know she figured, well if that's what he really wants, the hell with it, where's the harm in it, and hell, it'll be a lot of fun, but still."

"It's not that bad, Steve. If you think that Eddie Blake hasn't had her on his desk in his office at S.H.I.E.L.D HQ-"

"Yeah, but we're not talking about your office. Or your desk. Tony, honest to God, I wouldn't eat my lunch on your desk in your office for all the tea in China. Or Eddie's for that matter, because I have a real good idea of what you two use your desks for, besides work. But we're talking about the Avengers meeting table. You started this team, Tony. You brought me into it. Why am I telling you this?"

"So you're saying the Avengers should mean more to me than that? And what I did was dirty and bad and wrong?"

"Jeez, Tony, don't confuse me with Clark. If I sat here and told you that I never got any girls because I was Captain America, and I never said to any of them, well, okay, I feel sorta silly, but sure I'll leave the costume on, especially during the war, when I was just a young pup, I'd be lying. This is your mansion, your team, hell it's your table. It's a piece of wood with a brass "A" on it. If the Society blew up this place, tomorrow, next week we'd meet in the basement of Trivelino's Mac's in Brooklyn at a card table. It's not the table that matters. It's the Avengers."

"I know that, Steve. And I don't see how me doing the dirty deed to my good friend Napalm, on our meeting table means that I don't give a damn about the team I founded."

"No? Consider this. What if I hadn't happened by and the guards had seen you and Liv? What if one of them took the tape and sold it to some porno distributor? What if your little sexcapade got all over the city? The country? The world? For one thing your secret identity and Liv's would have been blown to hell. Any maybe you could weather the storm, but Liv's just now got her reputation out of the toilet. And as soon as people found out she was the Joker's daughter, she'd be ruined. And I don't even want to think what Eddie would have done. He'd think that it's all your fault and Napalm was just playing along for kicks and because she's still a kid and doesn't think too far ahead. Not to mention how great it would look for the team. Do you think I want to go out in front of reporters and explain to them that you're a great man, a genius, a fine mask, my best friend, but sometimes you just can't keep your dick in your pants? I'm pretty sure that shit wouldn't fly. Did you think about any of that?"

"Not really."

"Not really. You should have been. Are you having trouble staying on the program, Tony?"

"A little. I was trying to blow off a little steam."

"Yeah. I thought so. If you were sober, you would have remembered to turn your own cameras off. I think you should go back to rehab for a refresher, before the Coalition initiative. Pepper has your bags packed and she's waiting with plane tickets to San Diego. They're expecting you at the MORC for a two-week stay."

"That's probably for the best."

Steve stood up, and put his hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Hey, nobody's a saint, and everybody falls off the wagon, now and then. Especially with all the strain you're under. But, next time, it's your ass, Tony. I'll suspend you from the Avengers for three months. Go put your clothes on, you crazy bastard."

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"She's some kind of girl, isn't she?"

"I didn't watch the whole thing! But, from what I saw when I turned around to look, holy cow! What were you saying about her being a fire-haired vixen? Somebody ought to give Eddie a medal."

"I admit it, Steve. If I was him, I'd be either in a vegetative state, or dead. Even Logan only sees her once a week."

"Well, girls always did love Eddie. Especially the crazy ones. Maybe that's why."


End file.
